


white and gold and human

by frosmxths



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Introspection, M/M, fire/burning imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosmxths/pseuds/frosmxths
Summary: And Geonhak found desire—and Geonhak found wishes—and desire was punished, so Geonhak hid—hid at the edge of damnation, at the edge of temptation, extinction—(And there he met Dongju—all pretty red eyes and soft silver hair—and emotions crawled from the depth of his heart, from the back of his throat, and he learnt curiosity—And he learnt that Youngjo waslove—that Dongju waswant, wasdesirethat turned to care, to love, to—)Geonhak wasn’t supposed to learn anything, but hedid—
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	white and gold and human

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jjxneus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjxneus/gifts), [jangjoos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jangjoos/gifts).



> on humanity and perfection
> 
> (for my friends :D)

Standing at the gates of termination, Geonhak lets gold spill from his hands—from his fingertips and to the pure white above, below, _behind—_ lets it drip like a promise, a _vow_ —lets it drip and fade to stardust, at the edge of reality, until it turns to nothing at all.

Standing at the gates of termination, Geonhak drips gold and _wonders_ —

He wonders about a lot of things, now— wonders about living, about _feeling_ —

Because, ever since Geonhak was born, since he can remember, heaven has been a place of rules and prohibitions, a place of _must be_ and _should have—_ has been a place of duties and responsibilities, of blinding light and lack of freedom.

Ever since he was born—a pure heart lacking in desires, lacking in _feelings_ — Geonhak had been taught to stay pure. To avoid humans, avoid demons—to avoid temptation and its path to hell—to avoid losing and avoid _loving_ , even when he didn’t know what it meant—

Ever since he can remember, he’s been told to _avoid,_ and— ever since he can remember— Geonhak hasn’t been able to _breathe_.

Because heaven is rules and _suffocation_ —it’s a box and a prison, one you’re born into, one you’re expected to _accept—_

Heaven is entrapment—Heaven is a prison you should adhere to, a prison you shouldn’t _question—_

Heaven is white and gold that blinds and overwhelms at his senses—

Heaven is white and gold and forbidden truths—

Heaven is white and gold and blind _blind_ loyalty to _nothing—_

Geonhak hates it—hates this world that punishes dreams, this world that punishes _feelings—_

Hates the world that’s cruel, unforgiving—the world that took Youngjo away for ever daring to _feel_ , wings charred at the edges and halo a sickly _sickly_ gray—punished feelings in a cell, a prison of freedom at the edge of nothing and beyond gold, beyond white—

(Geonhak had never seen Youngjo happier than in that moment— had never seen him happier that then, when he lost a life, a _place—_ when he said goodbye with teary eyes and a kiss to Geonhak’s cheek, all laced with stardust and so many _promises—_

(Promises of loving, even if it all turned to nothing—promises of _living_ , even if it all turned to nothing—)

Geonhak had never seen him happier than then, at the doors of termination, with a whirlwind of questions that plagued at his mind—with Youngjo’s freedom bitter at the back of his throat, his _feelings—_

And he doesn’t like to think about it—doesn’t like to feel it, to _see_ it—but Geonhak had felt almost _envious—_

Envious of Youngjo— of his freedom, his feelings—of how he had opened his heart and lost, of how he had opened his heart and _gained—_

Of how he had _something—_ something that Geonhak, at the time, hadn’t even known he had longed for—

And his halo turned a little charred that day, that night—and Geonhak pretended not to notice, pretended not to feel—)

Geonhak isn’t a cynic, but he can’t love a world that taught him to _run—_ he can’t love a place that only taught him fear, only taught him _rules—_

He can’t love a place that punishes what’s a mere part of _being—_ punishes that’s so pure and _beautiful,_ something its rules and prohibitions could never touch, never waver, never _kill—_

He wonders if humans know—if humans, trapped outside golden gates as they are, in a world of fake colours and golden control, realize they live in a world of lies—in something temporary, only real until they finish fading away, walk past the doors of termination, damnation, extinction—

Maybe they do, maybe they don’t—maybe they do, and they don’t mind the lies, so long as they’re promised fake salvation.

(Because Geonhak _knows,_ knows that salvation just isn’t real _—_ and humans probably know, too, because humans are sharper, smarter, _better—_

But humans are also fickle, weird creatures—maybe too sharp, too foolish—too willing to believe that which grants them peace, even when they should know better, even when they _do_ know better, even when—

Geonhak doesn’t understand them.)

Standing at the gates of termination, at the edge of reality, Geonhak lets gold spill from his fingers—lets Dongju’s breathing soothe—lets their hands link, lets himself _breathe—_

And Geonhak’s never been the brightest, the best—he’s never been ambitious or outstanding—but he wonders a lot of things, but he _wants_ a lot of things—

He’s never been anyone, just like he was raised—lacking in that which people called humanity, somewhere in their mortal world—he’d never wanted, never felt, never _loved—_

But then the blinding light took that which he’s learnt was his solace, his _love—_ then white and gold turned to gray, to dust—then gray and gold decided Youngjo didn’t _belong_ —

And Geonhak started to wonder—

Wonder if, maybe, he didn’t _want_ to be no one—

If, maybe, he didn’t want to be what he was _supposed_ to be—

And Geonhak found desire—and Geonhak found wishes—and desire was punished, so Geonhak hid—hid at the edge of damnation, at the edge of temptation, extinction—

(And there he met Dongju—all pretty red eyes and soft silver hair—and emotions crawled from the depth of his heart, from the back of his throat, and he learnt curiosity—

And he learnt that Youngjo was _love—_ that Dongju was _want_ , was _desire_ that turned to care, to love, to—)

Geonhak wasn’t supposed to learn anything, but he _did—_

(And he still hates heaven—and he still hates its rules—and he still hates gold and white that blinds and _pulls—_ )

“Stop thinking” Present, _burning—_ Dongju’s hand is fire on his senses, fingers intertwined and pout to Geonhak’s cheek. “I never see you, don’t think when you’re with me”

Demanding, cute, _imperfect—_ Geonhak snorts, lets Dongju’s hand go with a laugh—lets Dongju wrap his arms around Geonhak’s neck, little horns scratching at the side of Geonhak’s jaw.

“Don’t you always complain that I’m _thoughtless_ ” Geonhak speaks with a teasing smile—with gold spilling from burning skin and charred wings—

“I do” and Dongju huffs, bites at the side of Geonhak’s neck lightly— all sharp teeth and too much care, too much _love—_ Geonhak groans in complaint, lets one of his hands bury in Dongju’s hair, grip tight as he pulls him away. “But,”

“But?” A little cock of his head—a smile that’s a little softer on Geonhak’s lips.

“I want you here” Dongju’s nails dig into Geonhak’s back, frown on his face a little too vulnerable, a little too _honest—_ “Stay with me” almost a whisper, a _prayer_ —and fire burns at their wings, their senses— and gold burns and _stains_ , contrasts against silver, against _red—_ “Don’t go where I can’t follow”

And it’s a selfish request—something so perfect, so lovely—

And it’s a selfish request, like always, like _Dongju—_

And it’s a selfish request—so perfect, imperfect, _human—_

“I’m here” with a fond laugh as he lets go of Dongju’s hair, lets Dongju pull him down for a kiss—for two—for three—

Four, and the gates open—and gold melds together with red—and white melts together with _nothing—_

“Good” five, six—Dongju’s hands to Geonhak’s hair, Dongju’s lips to Geonhak’s skin—a whisper pf a prayer as it all _burns_ — “Fall with me”

Seven, and they stay—breathing forgotten to the burn of feelings, of senses—breathing forgotten to love, to _life—_

(And Geonhak hates that he’s been forced to lose, and he hates having to be here, and he hates angels, and he hates _heaven—_

But he doesn’t hate living, and he doesn’t hate feeling—and he doesn’t hate what he was taught to hate, and he doesn’t hate what’s beautiful—

And he doesn’t hate Dongju, and he loves Dongju, and he loves to _love—_

So, he lets himself feel—feel warmth, feel love—feel pain and feel _loss—)_

And Geonhak feels _humanity_ — such a fickle thing, such a wandering mystery—where there should have been nothing at all—

\--

(“Do you know why they call us evil, Geonhak? Dongju speaks with a smile—with a hand to Geonhak’s cheek and breathing to the crook of his neck—

Geonhak shakes his head, lets gold run through pretty hair—lets gold run over cold skin, over burning feelings—

And Dongju kisses him—kisses up his neck and the side of his jaw—takes Geonhak’s lips and smiles again—pretty, sinful, _loving—_

“Because we’re too human”)

**Author's Note:**

> "will u ever write something thats not a study on the state of being human and feeling" no i dont think i will
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/frosmxths)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/frosmxths)


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